And the Hero Will Drown
by Nkari127
Summary: AU. Everyone has a breaking point, and Harry Potter has found his. Kept prisoner by Voldemort, he has been under almost nonstop torture. Can a man who has been broken find the will to fight... the will to win?
1. Last Transmission

**Last Transmission**

Pain, it was all encompassing and seemingly never-ending. Every nerve ending in Harry Potter's body was afire, sending panicked messages to his brain that he was being bludgeoned, stabbed, peeled, and burned. He thrashed wildly against his restraints, two iron manacles clamped around his wrists and attached to the dungeon wall. They rewarded his efforts by digging into his and drawing blood that ran its way down his arms, over his shoulders, and off his back.

Suddenly it stopped, though his body still twitched in remembrance. The teenage boy gasped for air. He had been screaming though no sound had come forth. Blood surfaced along with the air he had just inhaled as a series of coughs wracked his frail form; his lungs had been unable to accept such a deep breath after so much pain. The burning from his screamed-raw throat didn't even warrant attention after what he had just endured, neither did the throbbing in his wrists. He hung limply from the manacles, not quite able to sit upon the stone floor, his entire weight pulling at his shoulder joints that had become dislocated in the pointless struggle against the iron minutes before.

If one could see past the blood that caked the boy's naked body, he would notice the bruises. They spotted the boy's body with stunning regularity, though the worst were around his stomach and chest. Several fingers had been broken from his fist impacting the wall behind him and now sat at odd angles, each touch of them sent a tremor down his arm. A split lip was scabbing over, and the lack of moisture in the boy's system was causing painful cracking of the soft tissue of the lips, and the inside of the mouth. One eye was swollen shut and brilliantly purple, the other half-closed in resignation. Those eyes that had once been such a vibrant emerald green had dulled almost to gray.

These injuries made the person standing before the Boy-Who-Lived smile in sadistic joy, and she gave a shiver of anticipation for that which would come. This was a game, and Potter was a piece. The rules were simple: the boy couldn't die. There was no real ending to the game, no winners, per say. There were only the players, the rush, and the piece. It could only end if the piece was ruined.

"Wittle, bitty Potter, does it hurt?" A failed glare of hatred was cast at Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry's tormentor for the hour. The Death Eaters cycled, those that could be the most creative won more time playing the game. The game had been going for over two hundred forty hours.

"Harry," the sadist nearly whispered in his ear, "you're pathetic. So pathetic." Bellatrix giggled insanely. "Pathetic as pathetic can be, just like my traitor cousin!" Her giggles continued as she clapped her hands together and bounced on her feet. "Bellatrix does not like pathetic people, oh no she doesn't." The Death Eater leaned forward to his ear again, "Pathetic you may be, but you do look good love."

With that announcement she licked his ear and bit roughly into his earlobe. Harry's feeble squirming only encouraged her and she moved her mouth to cover his. The moisture from her mouth stung his cracked lips and Harry couldn't even find the strength to keep his mouth closed to bar her tongue entrance. He could only lie back, about to be degraded in yet another way, and barely muster up the will to care. It was all over, now. He had lost, and that was it. He wondered, briefly between spouts of pain as Bellatrix's teeth ripped into the scabs covering his split lip, when Voldemort would come and finish him off.

Bellatrix's nails ran down his chest roughly, cutting into his skin and peeling away scabs causing blood to flow once again. This she lapped up and fed to him via another kiss. Harry swallowed the plasma with effort; it was the some of the only liquid he had received during his stay.

"Tell me Harry, how does this feel?" Her fingers ran much lower than they had before, drawing across his genitals. Harry managed the strength to blow spittle at her. "Oh?" she responded before grabbing the area in question harshly, causing Harry to arc his back and struggle weakly against his binds. "You don't like rough Harry?" she asked in a singsong voice. "Do you want aunty Bellatrix to play nice?"

A soft gurgle was his only reply, the blood from his throat was attempting to slide down into his lungs; Harry welcomed it. But for Bellatrix, that would not do. After all, the game could continue only as long as the piece was alive. A foul smelling and tasting potion was forced down his throat and Harry felt his resolution die as he was revived.

"Tsk, tsk," Bellatrix cooed. "It wasn't smart to make aunty Bella use the potion, now we get to have more fun!" Her cheerful voice was muted by the despair that Harry felt at his recovery. He barely heard the word before his world was pain once more.

"_Crucio_."

.:oOoOoOo:.

Harry was awakened with a metal-tipped boot to the stomach. "No rest for the weary," came the sarcastic voice that Harry had come to know well. Platinum-blonde hair greeted Harry's vision as he looked upward and the trademark Malfoy smirk stood on Lucius' lips.

"Tell me Potter, what is it like to know that everyone you have ever loved, if they haven't yet, will die because of your failure?" The emotional abuse barely registered, so far gone was Harry's mental capacity. Lucius laughed, a deep colorful laugh. "They have nearly given up hope Potter," Lucius started again. Harry didn't need to be told who he was talking about, he already knew: Ron and Hermione. According to the Death Eaters that had been torturing him, the rest of the wizarding world had abandoned hope after a mere two days.

"We have a surprise for them once they do Potter, do you want to know what it is?" It was only the sound of strangled breathing that answered the question. "You," Lucius said simply. "Isn't it brilliant?" The laugh once again filled the chamber.

Harry felt his head drooping involuntarily. A quick kick from Lucius, breaking his right leg at the shin, remedied it. Short, quickened breaths were the only indication of pain; tears couldn't even form in his eyes any more. "Pay attention Potter," came the harsh reminder.

"As I was saying," Lucius continued. "Once they give up hope, we will send them you, beaten, bloodied, and dead. Along with you will be a note, and out of respect for you the Dark Lord himself will have written it, thanking your friends for keeping their hope for so long. They will be told that the only reason you were kept so long, and therefore tortured so long, was because they held out hope. How wonderful is that?" Harry's breathing increased in pace and strength.

"I'm sorry?" Lucius asked, feigning sincerity, "What was that? I can't hear you." A minute passed, but Harry was unable to form the words, so badly damaged was his body and mind.

"No?" Lucius queried, a Cheshire grin upon his face, "Well then, you are wasting my time. Let me continue with the story. So, imagine the pain they will go through, knowing that they caused you all this pain! Imagine for a second, the Weasel boy losing his mind and running away to revenge you, only to meet his demise by our hands. Or best, imagine your dear mudblood friend stepping off the astronomy tower to relieve her guilt."

Lucius was awed in spite of himself by the amount of fight that the boy chained to the wall still had in him. The intent of the glare he was receiving, though diminished through swollen eyes, was clear enough, and the fight he was putting up against the manacles was heroic in proportion to his situation. But Lucius Malfoy was not part of the inner circle of Death Eaters for nothing; he showed nothing of his feelings to the boy in front of him.

"I seem to have struck a nerve," the aristocrat said gleefully. "I was so worried that we had killed every one of them already. Time is running out Potter. They had your funeral today. It was, a heart wrenching event. I almost shed tears myself, although my son didn't quite share the same sentiments. There were those, imagine it, that objected to my presence there. The nerve of them. Pity though. It won't be long yet. Not much longer Potter, you should get your affairs in order." Another round of merry laughter came from the man.

"Oh and Potter, I don't appreciate it when you don't laugh along with me."

"_Crucio_."

.:oOoOoOo:.

"Get up," a rough voice ordered, booking no possible room for argument, but plenty of room for apathy. Harry Potter lay in the same position he had for an indeterminate amount of time.

There was a sickening crack as an elbow fractured his jaw. A soft moan of pain escaped Harry's lips, it was the first sound he had made since his voice went out the first night in Voldemort's hand. The guard smiled, taking sick satisfaction that he had made the boy do so. After several more minutes it was apparent that Harry was not going to be able to get up of his own power, and so the guard reluctantly forced several potions down the prisoner's throat.

Harry felt his jaw instantly mend and his throat heal. A sudden rush of energy accompanied the second potion he was forced to intake. A mental sigh accompanied this improved condition, they would once again be able to hear him scream, and that made everything so much worse.

"Get up!" the guard ordered again, and Harry, not eager to be punished again did so. Suddenly he felt very awkward as blood drained from his head due to lying for so long. The dizzy spell ended with Harry falling to the ground again, his wrists being caught roughly by the iron manacles, and his shoulders being ripped out of their sockets. Harry clenched his teeth, refusing to scream until it was impossible not to.

A second attempt at rising proved better, and Harry managed to stand on his feet as the guard stepped around behind him. Harry suddenly began to sweat profusely as panic began to set in; it was so much worse when he couldn't see what was coming. He heard the guard fooling with the chains, disconnecting them from the wall and then with a spell, fusing them together.

A shove forward sent Harry to the ground again, his legs unable to compensate for the sudden momentum after being unused for so long. With no hands to brace his fall he slammed his face on the unforgiving stone floor, smashing his nose. The guard let out a loud guffaw at his pain and roughly brought Harry to his feet again by the scruff of his neck. Blood poured out of his nose and it was all Harry could do to not fall again as the guard finally told him what was going on.

"You are to follow, you are going to see the Master."

It was Harry's turn to let out a silent laugh, the only evidence of it was in the slight smile upon his face. They were finally going to end the torment. Outside of his cell door the two were met by three other Death Eaters, Harry recognized them all from his torture sessions though he couldn't put names to their faces. The four trouped him down hallways for many long minutes, Harry stumbling along.

While walking up a flight of stairs his legs gave out on him and he fell backwards. The Death Eaters behind let him tumble. A broken arm and callous laughter rewarded him. One of the Death Eaters grabbed his forearm and threw him back into the stairs, pain from his dislocated shoulder flared and Harry barely bit back a gasp. It took superhuman effort to ascend the stairs, and Voldemort's lackeys were becoming annoyed at the length of time the journey was taking. They pushed the pace down the next hallway and as they moved along Harry's foot slammed into a raised stone tile, fracturing his toe and sending him to the ground yet again. Pain shot through his body as all of his already broken and disjoined bones were rattled.

"Get up boy, I'm sick of your delays!" growled one as Harry slowly raised himself. It wasn't easy without use of his hands, which were still chained behind his back, and Harry was forced to use the wall to help, no matter how much leaning his weight on his dislocated shoulder hurt. It seemed the walk would never come to an end, and Harry's exhaustion got the better of him. For a third time he went down, the pain from his injuries blinding him. Try as he might he was unable to get up. A few rough kicks did nothing to help his situation.

Reluctantly the leader of the group ordered, "Simon, pick him up. He makes it to the Master's chamber with no more delays. Let's move."

The Death Eater named Simon grumbled about having to help the child, and roughly lifted Harry from his place on the floor by his broken arm. A sadistic glint in his eye told Harry that is exactly what he meant to do. The pain almost caused him black out, his consciousness hung on by a thread as he was dragged along for but a minute more. Large black oak double doors greeted the troupe and the leader pushed them. They opened with a creak and Harry nearly let out a final laugh, it was almost too cliché to handle.

Before him lay what must have been the great hall of whatever structure they occupied. A long, somewhat narrow room extended outwards. At the end, atop a four-step rise, sat a throne made of human bones. Skulls decorated the crown of its back, jaws open in an everlasting scream, and sockets empty of eyes. On the throne sat what had once been a man, and was now a monster. Voldemort watched the procession with a gleam in his red eyes, the Death Eaters standing around him, six of them, looked on with smiles. Harry's resolve strengthened as he saw that monster of a man, though he would die, he would not die weak.

Harry was roughly dumped to the ground and made to kneel, the stone irritating his already raw and bleeding knees. His bindings were extended to the ground to keep him in position. The only freedom of movement he had was the ability to rotate his neck.

"Harry," came the voice of the monster. The word was drawn out and the voice was raspy. "Can I call you Harry?" Lord Voldemort continued. "I feel that I know you so well. I've been observing you Harry since you arrived. I do hope that we met your hospitality requirements..." Voldemort smiled, a smile that belonged upon the face of a daemon that had just secured its prey, the smile of a sadist in the midst of his tender ministrations. The Death Eaters around, totaling ten, chuckled at their Lord's humor.

"I have waiting a long time for this day, Harry, the day it will all be over. This time, it will end in my favor."

Voldemort rose from his throne and walked down the steps to the broken teen, his blood red eyes staring into Harry's own. The vile, piercing glare seemed to penetrate to Harry's very soul, spreading corruption and evil there, and yet Harry refused to give quarter to the man who had killed his parents and unflinchingly stared back.

"I know the prophecy now Harry. It is interesting, is it not? I must say I'm surprised the old man shared its knowledge with you after holding out so long. Perhaps he didn't think that this could happen and I would become privy to the knowledge." Voldemort suddenly brandished his wand and a memory, Harry's memory, flowed forth, displayed for all to see.

The ghostly image of Trelawney began to speak, "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born as the seventh month dies_."

As the memory ended Voldemort looked at Harry, more specifically at his scar. "What is this power Harry? Do you even know? I have gone through so many options, it isn't anger, and it can't be love." Harry jerked his head up to look at Voldemort as he said this, Dumbledore had been so certain.

"Does that surprise you Harry? It shouldn't. We have all loved someone at one point or another." Voldemort paused. "I loved my mother as a child, didn't you?" Voldemort's sarcastic remark cut into Harry's resolve to remain even-headed and he spit at his parents' murderer as the Death Eaters mocked him. The saliva didn't even make it to Voldemort's boots, but it caught the attention of the Dark Lord.

"I thought we had beat all the fight out of you already," Voldemort remarked. "No matter, let me continue. I had been hoping as I have watched you over the past three months that this 'power I know not' would manifest, or that you would somehow show it. I want this power, and it has piqued my curiosity to know that some power I do not know exists. For some time I thought that it had to do with the willpower you possessed, but finally, even your will broke. I watched as Bellatrix finally snapped your will to live." The woman in question was giving a bright smile at the Dark Lord's praise. "It was one of the most – amazing – things I've ever witnessed.

"I watched as your eyes changed from displaying despair, to radiating a need for it all to stop. I have to admit that I felt truly alive, and even shivered, as I saw your attempts to get her to torture you to death. But every one of my loyal Death Eaters knew what you were trying to do. We have seen it done many times before. Every one of us is an expert in the game."

Voldemort stepped and his long, pale fingers ran over the curse-scar on Harry's forehead and then ran up and through Harry's knotted, oily hair and forced Harry to return his gaze to his own. The contact initiated a burning pain throughout the boy's body and Harry fought to maintain control of his pain. Once again the two pairs of eyes met.

"Do you know why, Harry, I had forbid my loyal followers from killing you?" Voldemort lowered his face to Harry's. "I thought that it would be poetic justice for me to kill you myself." Voldemort released his grip on Harry's head, letting the boy's gaze fall back to the floor. It was too much effort to keep his neck upright; it didn't matter anyway.

"That is why you are here today Harry. I have just received word that your friends have finally given up hope. They were granted special permission to visit your grave today for just that purpose. I watched them from afar as they put flowers on your grave and cried over your headstone. I am surprised that they held out for so long. Certainly they had to know that nobody survives the hospitality of Lord Voldemort." The man paused before studying Harry's face again.

"Are you relieved Harry? Do you welcome death after living in constant pain for so long?"

A sudden tingling in the Harry's mind alerted him to the use of legillimency, but Harry didn't bother to fight it, he couldn't had he tried. There was only one battle left that he could win, and Harry chose to conserve his strength.

Voldemort pushed his fingers together before exclaiming exuberantly. "Ah, it is!" The tingling suddenly disappeared. "Oh this memory will be fantastic for their gift!" The raspy voice exuded glee in the worst possible way.

"Did Lucius tell you about our plans for your friends? Yes, I know he did. The letter Harry, do you remember? Well, I decided that a letter simply wouldn't be sufficient for the task. Behold!" Voldemort strode a few steps to Harry's left and ripped a black velvet cover from a metal bowl sitting upon a pedestal of black marble.

"You know what this is, don't you Harry?" The teenager's eyes widened in recognition, a pensieve sat there. Harry began to shake his head slowly. Voldemort pressed his advantage.

"Oh yes, we have a plethora of memories to deliver to your friends. Let's see, the memory of your welcoming to the castle. Oh yes, your first crucio here. Then we have Bella's brilliant sexual degradation, that wonderful scene where your will to live finally snaps, your facial expression as Lucius tells you our wonderful plans, and of course, this. Our last meeting; and your demise. Of course, what would this be without a few festivities?"

At this Voldemort walked over to one of the men that had delivered Harry to the room and grabbed his Dark Mark. The man hissed in pain but stood fast. It wasn't long before the pops of apparition assaulted Harry's ears. Minutes after it had begun, it was over. They had all arrived. Harry turned to look out at them; there were hundreds in the crowd. He briefly wondered if Snape was out there, smiling, knowing what was about to happen next.

"My loyal Death Eaters," Voldemort welcomed his legions to the hall. "You are called here to witness my victory. Some of you already knew, and some of you did not, but I have had Harry Potter in my possession for some time now. Today, he kneels here before me ready to die." A whispering shot through the crowd of Death Eaters. Voldemort knew to let it go on for a little time. He was not labeled a charismatic leader for not knowing how to cater to a crowd.

"As you all well know, this boy has evaded me for many years, but it has all been in vain. Nobody escapes from me when I want them." Voldemort walked back to Harry and bent down, whispering in his ear.

"I thought I'd be honest with you in the end Potter." Voldemort spat out the name. "I hate you. I hate you for taking thirteen years of my life away from me. I hate you for almost destroying the one thing I have worked so hard for. My immortality. Today Potter, today all those wrongs against me will be righted, and my hate will triumph."

"You know nothing of hate, Tom," Harry managed between coughs, the venom in his voice causing Voldemort to draw back quickly. Had the Dark Lord been able to see his captive's eyes he may have given an involuntary shudder.

Voldemort stepped back from Harry and then in front of him. The boy raised his head until his eyes found Riddle's. Slowly, Voldemort removed his wand from its holster attached to his forearm and lowered the tip to the scar on Harry's forehead. For nearly two minutes there was nothing but silence, the scene held still as if by a photograph.

Suddenly Harry Potter's voice burst forth with a laugh, much stronger than it should have been, hatred of the monster in front of him crystal clear. "KILL ME YOU COWARD! I'M ONLY A MAN!"

A sneer grew upon the face of that monster and as a tear slid down the Boy-Who-Lived's cheek for all those he failed, Lord Voldemort screamed out those two deadly words.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

The spell erupted from the tip of his wand as if in slow motion, and immediately impacted the forehead of the Boy-Who-Lived. The result was instantaneous, Harry James Potter's head was flung back from the force of the spell and a shockwave ran through the room, disturbing the cloaks of the Death Eaters and putting out every light. Voldemort let out a primal scream as the bond that had been forged by that same spell many years before was ripped apart by the magic. The oaken doors split with a terrifyingly loud crack as the wave of pressure impacted them and tapestries were pulled down from the walls atop the crowded Death Eaters below.

Everyone was left in darkness, fear coursing through their veins. What had happened? Was Potter dead? What was the matter with their Lord?

"Surely this one was beloved of the fates. What have we done?" one Death Eater was heard to comment before turning his wand upon himself and whispering those fatal words. His body dropped to the ground.

As quickly as it started, it was over. The fires of the torches flickered back into existence, and the screams of Lord Voldemort ended. The Death Eaters cautiously looked up to where their lord had been only to see him laid out flat on the floor. Several of the inner circle members ran to Voldemort's side from their positions to check his vitals. Bellatrix Lestrange could be seen hyperventilating.

"No, no, no!" she yelled out. "This can't be! Potter was broken! He had nothing!"

Lucius Malfoy confirmed what Bellatrix's words implied. "He is dead," he whispered, fear evident in his voice. Panic spread like wildfire amongst the present Death Eaters.

The second war was over, and they had lost.


	2. Dearest I Shall Meet You in the Hollows

**Part II: "Dearest I Shall Meet You in the Hollows"**

_Lucius Malfoy confirmed what Bellatrix's words implied. "He is dead," he whispered, fear evident in his voice._

Those words incited panic amongst the Death Eaters, and rapidly they apparated out of the room to get their affairs and alibis in order. The members of the Inner Circle that had not gone to Azkaban before were not far behind. Those that were already known Death Eaters collapsed to the ground in despair. They were finished. Their master would not be returning this time. Though they didn't repeat the words of the unknown Death Eater, they did repeat his actions. Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband and his brother, along with thirteen other Death Eaters committed suicide rather than be sent to Azkaban again.

Soon, there was only one. The last alive in the room unflinchingly stepped over the bodies of those that had died and dutifully undid the iron binds that held the body of Harry Potter in place. Tears of joy slid down the lined face of the man as the boy's body slid to the floor. Respectfully the man straightened out the body of the world's savior. He then bent over Voldemort and removed the Dark Lord's wand from his grip, placing it in his own pocket. He repeated this step with each of the dead Death Eaters before transfiguring a torch into a large box. He laid the bodies of the dead Death Eaters into it; Voldemort's was put on top. The box was then sealed with a short squelch.

Another box was transfigured. But this one was made elaborate. The man put special detail into the coffin that he now made. A full sized body of the Boy-Who-Lived lied with eyes closed upon the covering, lilies growing around him. A deer, dog, and wolf could be seen playing in the background. Carefully the man lifted the top from his creation and gently laid the body of Harry James Potter inside. The nearby pensieve was secured to the foot of the coffin.

"_Portus_," the man whispered over another torch before setting it upon the box containing the bodies of the Death Eaters. He repeated this step for another torch which he laid over the Boy-Who-Lived's coffin.

"Activate," he whispered and immediately both coffins and the pensieve vanished. The man followed not seconds later.

.:oOoOoOo:.

Gray clouds drifted overhead, blocking the rolling hills of Scotland from the sun's light. The brisk temperature was perfect for outside activities, and what better activity than quidditch? A pickup game was currently in progress on the Hogsmede Quidditch Grounds when suddenly two boxes appeared out of thin air and settled upon the ground. Those students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that were playing in the game, enjoying their last Hogsmede weekend of the year were not overly concerned by the sudden appearance of the crates, after all, things like that often happened in the wizarding world. What did concern them however, was the sudden appearance of their Potion's Master that followed.

For once there was no glare of contempt at the students that were having a good time above him. He simply levitated the two crates, and the pensieve, and walked off in the direction of the school. Not a one of the students had the courage to follow, but it was the talk of the rest of the game.

Severus Snape dutifully walked the packages up to the Hogwarts grounds and placed them on the Quidditch Pitch. They were too large to be taken inside. He opened the larger of the crates and laid the bodies within out side-by-side, with Tom Riddle's farthest to the right. He did not touch the coffin of his once most hated student. Several glamour and notice-me-not charms were put into place to insure that no students would randomly come upon the bodies.

With a sigh and a rub of his head Severus Snape made the walk back to the castle and traversed its corridors on autopilot. What was he supposed to say? How could he possibly do this? He stopped at the gargoyle that hid the entrance to Headmaster Dumbledore's office and took several deep breaths before giving the password and ascending the stairs. A few seconds later found him at the door. Another deep breath and he knocked before letting himself in, steeling himself for what he had to report.

Albus Dumbledore was not alone. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Remus Lupin all turned to him as he entered. The most feared professor in the school suddenly lost his ability to speak. Those were faces that he was not yet ready to confront. Gathering himself he turned to the Albus Dumbledore.

"Sir, it is of the utmost importance that I speak to you immediately. Alone." He added, somewhat impressed that he had managed to get that all out without stuttering. He noticed that Weasley looked ready to explode and the other two appeared comparatively angry at having their meeting interrupted. Albus, though, gave him a calculating stare. Severus rarely referred to the old Headmaster as 'sir,' and the use of such a greeting had been used by the two to hint at the necessity of a report.

"Very well Severus. My most sincere apologies to you three, but I really must speak with Severus."

As soon as they left the former Death Eater turned spy abandoned all pretense of calmness and crashed into a chair opposite the Headmaster, tears rolling down his face.

"My boy? What has happened?" Dumbledore queried and attempted to meet Snape's eyes. He failed until Severus raised his head, his long, oily black hair falling across his facial features, obscuring them from view.

"It is over Albus," he said simply, an unseen smile gracing his face. It had been many long years since he had allowed a smile to form, but he found that he couldn't stop it now.

"What?" Dumbledore all but whispered. "He found you out?"

"No," came the immediate reply as Severus pushed his hair back, exposing his smile. "It is over. Voldemort is dead."

Dumbledore immediately rose from his chair. "Over?" he exclaimed softly. "How? How did this happen? Harry –"

"Was not dead as we had believed. He has been in the custody of the Dark Lord this entire time. Oh Merlin Albus. Oh gods, you should have seen him."

"Harry?" Dumbledore breathed, then demanded. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry Albus," came the reply, another tear slid down his cheek. "I couldn't do anything. He is gone. They are both gone."

"No," came the angry reply. "One would live! It was foretold in the prophecy!"

"Albus, I brought back both of the bodies, along with a number of his followers that chose death over Azkaban. Here," Snape's fingers fumbled with the wands he had looted. "They are almost all here. Bellatrix Lestrange," he put her wand on the table, "Rudolphus, Rabastan, Macnair, Dolohov, His -," Snape left out the other names as he laid the rest of the wands down. Dumbledore was only interested in one.

It was thirteen and a half inches, yew, with the core of a phoenix feather. Dumbledore picked it up slowly. "So it is," he said at long last. "So much destruction. So much terror, and here is the instrument of it all." With a sigh the greatest wizard of the age placed the wand into a special container before scooping up the other wands and placing them to the side of his desk in a small bag.

After a deep breath Dumbledore spoke. "Lead on then Severus."

The two traveled through the pathways of Hogwarts that Severus had walked not moments before and out the double doors. Dumbledore immediately walked through the perimeter charms that Snape had set up, a testament to his skills that he knew they were there. The sight that greeted him made the old wizard fall to his knees.

"I failed him," the head of the Wizengamot asked his potion's professor, "didn't I?"

"No Albus, you didn't. You should have seen him at the end. You know that bad blood that I shared with the boy, but I couldn't help but feel connected to him, the emotions he elicited were... amazing."

"What is the pensieve?" Dumbledore questioned quietly.

"I am not sure, but I imagine that it was going to be His parting gift to everyone who had held Harry close. I didn't look in it, but I would like to request that I may be able to." Dumbledore swallowed and nodded his head before rising to his feet again and opening the coffin that held the body of the Boy-Who-Lived. There was no twinkle in his eye as silent tears ran down his face and his hand ran over the forehead of the boy he had come to love as a son over his years of education at Hogwarts. The physical damage to the boy's body was immense. No one should have had to suffer so much.

The wizened wizard remembered many times he had spent with the boy that now lay before him, naked and broken. He remembered the good times, Harry's sorting and triumphs in Quidditch and the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament, and the bad times, the telling of Harry the prophecy that his godfather had died for and the many nights when he had thought Harry lost to him forever.

The sound of Severus retching onto the grass brought him out of his reverie. The former Death Eater had dropped to one knee and his now pasty white face turned up to Albus Dumbledore. "I was right," he told the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "There is only one more memory that needs to be there."

That said Severus Snape raised his wand to his temple and withdrew a silvery thought strand before placing it into the pensieve. "He was brave Albus. Merlin, I've never seen anyone so brave." Snape clamped a hand on the older wizard's shoulder and then left to the castle. He needed time alone, and sleep, though he knew that would not come.

Albus Dumbledore stood before the pensieve, steeling himself for what he now knew was inside. He had seen years and years of war, and many terrible things, this couldn't be any different. How wrong he was. Minutes later the greatest wizard of the century was repeating the action that his esteemed potion's professor had done. He was emptying his stomach contents onto the ground. And yet even as he did so he couldn't help but be astounded at that final encounter. What exactly had happened? Severus had not been close enough to hear the private conversation between Harry and Lord Voldemort, but he had been plenty close enough to hear his last outburst.

'_KILL ME YOU COWARD! I'M ONLY A MAN!_' The words still rang through his ears, stirring something far beyond anything he had ever felt before. Those words had been infused with so much emotion; and then the shockwave, and Voldemort's screams. The scene would never leave his mind for the rest of his life.

After many long minutes Dumbledore composed himself and rose from the ground to stand over his pupil's body. "You did it Harry. You've accomplished more than I had ever hoped you could have. I am so sorry for the part that I played in the life you lead; I hope that you could forgive me. Now, I have to tell some people who I would much rather avoid right now about you. Your final revenge I suppose." Dumbledore offered a short humorless chuckle before wiping the final tears away from his eyes and turning towards the castle.

The world would know soon enough. It was over; the war was finally over. It was with a considerably lighter step that Dumbledore strode back in the direction of Hogwarts.

.:oOoOoOo:.

"Good afternoon Kerry," Dumbledore greeted the secretary to the Minister of Magic, "I need to speak with Amelia."

"I'm sorry Albus, but the Minister is in a meeting right now."

"Kerry, this is a matter that cannot be put off for a second. Now you can either have the Minister dismiss her guests or I will interrupt their meeting. I apologize for forcing your hand like this." The secretary gave him a look that clearly said, 'You had better hope I don't get sacked' before informing the Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones, that Dumbledore was present with an urgent message.

Seconds later, several very well known lawyers were escorted out of her office and Dumbledore could hear her apologies and times for a rain check. They were gone within a few more seconds.

"Albus, you know how important that meeting –"

"Amelia, this is more so." Dumbledore interrupted her before taking a deep breath and repeating the same words that Severus had used an hour earlier. "It is over Amelia."

"Albus what are you talking about? What is over?"

"The war Amelia," he said with a smile. "It is over. Lord Voldemort is dead."

Amelia Bones had never lost control in her life, which was one of the things that worked for her in the race to be Minister of Magic. She always kept her cool. At that moment, she lost control, landing in a very undignified heap.

"Albus," she started, her voice was nearly cracking from the relief those words were bringing, "are you sure?"

"Yes Amelia, I am sure." A tear of happiness slid out of her brown eyes and worked its way down her cheek.

"There is one more thing," Dumbledore continued somewhat hesitantly.

"Wha – what is it?"

"Harry Potter. I don't know how it happened, but he destroyed Lord Voldemort. He has been alive, Amelia, for these past three months. He was a prisoner of the Death Eaters."

"He is alive?" the Minister of Magic asked from the floor, shock evident on her features.

Albus closed his eyes. He didn't want to admit it to her, but she deserved the truth. "No Amelia. Harry James Potter perished in the final confrontation with Lord Voldemort. He had been through – horrible things - Amelia. Things that no one should ever have to go through, and he triumphed."

"How did this happen? How do you know?" Amelia Bones demanded.

"As you know," Dumbledore started, "Severus has been a spy for us for the duration of Lord Voldemort's second rise. He just brought back the word, and the bodies, from a meeting that Voldemort had called tonight. They were there to witness the termination of Harry's life. It was to be His final victory. Something happened. I can't even describe what happened. You will have to see for yourself."

"See?"

"A pensieve. Tom was planning on gifting it to us when he delivered the body. It details the torture Harry went through. Severus added his memory of the final encounter. It really is done Amelia. At long last it is finished." Dumbledore collapsed into a chair and Amelia Bones finally stood from her position on the floor and found her own chair.

"Who knows Albus?" she asked.

"Just you, Severus, and I."

"When should we tell the rest of the world?"

"After we have told a few more people who need to know first."

"His friends?"

Dumbledore nodded. "And the aurors. Severus retained his thoughtful nature and brought back the bodies of a number of wanted Death Eaters that committed suicide rather than be returned to Azkaban. Their bodies are at Hogwarts. His body is also at Hogwarts, as is His wand."

Amelia gasped. "Destroy it Albus. We cannot risk its loss to those who would have it for power."

"I am aware of this Amelia. I had hoped that after it is broken that the pieces could be displayed as a testament of the triumph of good over evil. Some sort of museum will be necessary I think. People must not put this war behind them as quickly as they did the last. We must always remember that the purity of blood has nothing to do with one's character, moral or otherwise. Though he would have disliked the arrangements, Harry will need to be exalted for his part in the war."

The Minister of Magic nodded in agreement. "Very well Albus, I shall inform the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to bring only the most trusted aurors to Hogwarts. I will also inform the head of the Department of Mysteries that his presence is required at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore nodded. "May you do as you have said you will. Now I'm afraid I have the most difficult thing I've ever had to do in front of me. I must tell Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr. Lupin of Harry's demise."

"Thank you Albus." Amelia said as he pushed the door to her office open.

"Don't thank me," he responded. "Thank Harry Potter."

.:oOoOoOo:.

Albus Dumbledore, one of the eldest wizards alive walked with the deception of being calm to the nearest fireplace, where he flooed to his office. He was met by the very three people he needed to speak to, but wanted to least.

"Albus!" Remus nearly yelled, "What is going on! I saw Snape leading you out of the castle! What did that Death Eater tell you?"

Dumbledore held up his hand to stop the verbal assault and walked over to his desk where he sat down and removed his glasses. He set them down in front of him and closed his weary eyes for a moment before opening them again and replacing the spectacles on his nose. He then reached into a nearby cabinet and pulled out a bottle of brandy before pouring himself a small glass and taking a sip.

"Are you alright sir?" Hermione inquired.

"Indeed Miss Granger, physically speaking I am in tip-top condition. My emotions though, have been running rampant on me for a few hours now." None of the three missed the time connection to when Snape interrupted their earlier meeting. "I'm afraid that I must tell you three something that has just been brought to my attention by Severus. It is both the most wonderful, and the worst news that you will have received in your entire lives."

"It has to do with Harry doesn't it?" Ron asked, hope in his voice.

"Yes," replied Dumbledore, fatigue noticeable in his voice, "it has to do with Harry. Three months ago, Harry disappeared. We assumed him killed by Lord Voldemort." The three nodded, they knew this already. "I was just informed that while he was taken by Tom, he had not been killed."

"Well then what are we waiting for?" Ron jumped up out of his chair shouting. "Get together a search party! We need to rescue him!"

"Had not been," Hermione whispered, and Ron fell back into his chair as the significance of the words hit him like a car moving at fifty miles an hour. Remus' face paled to white.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Had not been." The old wizard took a deep breath before continuing. "Today, at approximately 3:40, Severus was called to a meeting. Tom was planning on killing Harry in front of all his Death Eaters, capping months of torture." Hermione let out a sob and tears flowed freely down Ron's cheeks as well.

"Something, however, didn't go to Lord Voldemort's plans. I wish I could tell you what happened, but even after witnessing the event, I cannot. Voldemort killed Harry with the Avada Kedavra curse, that much is clear, but something caused him extreme pain after it was cast. As Harry's own life ended, as did Tom's. Lord Voldemort is no more, Harry triumphed in the end."

"How can you say that?" Ron screamed at the headmaster. "How can you say he won? He's dead!"

"I know Mr. Weasley, and you must believe me when I tell you that there are few who could regret the passing of such an amazing wizard such as Harry Potter than I."

"There must be something we can see sir?" Hermione asked, hopeful.

"There is a record of Harry's passing, Severus' memories from the ordeal. I would let you see them without hesitation, but along with the memories of his end are the memories deposited in there by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, of Harry's torture. It was, inhuman, what he was put through. I do not wish for either of you," he pointed at Ron and Hermione, "to see it until those particular memories can be filtered out. The end is horrible enough in its own right. Remus, if you want to, I judge you fully able to make the decision to see what he endured."

Remus, his face resembling that of the living dead, nodded in agreement. "I want to see them Albus. I need to see what he went through."

"This is not fair!" Hermione yelled. "You don't give us the choice? We were his closest friends Headmaster Dumbledore! We deserve to see as much of him as anyone else!"

"My girl," Dumbledore said calmly, through effort, though a tear slid from his eye, "you must believe me when I say that Voldemort wanted you to see what is in that pensieve. It is because of this that I cannot in good conscience allow you to do so."

Dumbledore sighed when the two teenagers refused to meet his gaze. "I felt that you should know before you found out from the media. Unfortunately, Voldemort's demise cannot go undeclared. The associated press will be told late tonight. I would appreciate it if you did not say anything about this until the news is released. Also, if you so desire, the Minister and I could set up bars on the media from contacting you."

Hermione nodded her head, and Ron followed her action. "We will contact them when we feel the need to tell our story sir," Hermione said speaking for both of them.

"Very well, now, while I cannot allow you to see the pensieve, I can allow you to see his body, Severus retained enough control to bring it back." The faces of the two teenagers went from red to white in seconds. "I want to warn you though, they were not kind to him, and his body reflects this."

"I don't care Headmaster," Ron said, trying to swallow down his nervousness. "I want to see Harry at least one last time." Hermione nodded her agreement and Dumbledore lead the three down to the Quidditch Pitch and through the wards. Hermione gasped as she saw the aurors covering bodies of known Death Eaters and identifying others. The air of excitement that should have gone hand in hand with victory was muted to nothing by the close proximity of their savior's coffin. There were no cheers to be heard, and choking sobs were common.

In the last year Harry had grown close to many of the aurors, having trained with them in the summer and throughout the school year. Each of those present were ones that Harry had called friends, and while each was overjoyed, they were struck with depression at their protégée's death. Amelia Bones could be seen attempting to compose herself, and failing miserably, after viewing the contents of the pensieve. As Minister of Magic, she had a responsibility to view those memories, as much as she had not wanted to.

As the four approached Harry's coffin the procession slowed. Finally each peered down upon the face of the boy each had loved, as a friend, as a son.

His nose was still broken, the blood having long dried up. His cheek was covered in gashes from the various falls he had taken on the way to Voldemort's chamber. His left arm was bent at an odd angle at the elbow, signaling that it was broken. A thin sheet of cloth that had not been there earlier covered his waist and thighs from view. His knees were covered in dried blood and his broken large toe was clearly evident. Hermione wept heavily. Ron and Remus soon followed suit.

In time Remus brought himself from his tears for long enough to walk to the pensieve. Dumbledore and Madam Bones attempted to convince him to wait before viewing the memories but Remus made it very clear what he thought about that idea. Some minutes later found him on the ground, beating his fists into the soft earth crying, calling out to Harry, yelling apologies that would never have the chance to be accepted.

Hermione and Ron rushed to the lycanthrope to comfort him, though they were unaware of the full contents of the pensieve. Each of the two had become very connected to Remus since Harry had gone missing months before, and their hugs helped him through what had been the toughest thing to see in his life. It had been hundreds of times worse than seeing James and Lily's bodies, millions of times worse than hearing of Pettigrew's betrayal.

The three sat there for hours, weeping over what they had lost, and what could have been. Remus wept for the pain that Harry had gone through, Hermione and Ron wept for those times that Harry would not be their to enjoy. They wept tears of joy at the defeat of Voldemort and tears of sorrow for the death of their closest friend. They wept for Harry and for themselves. They wept for the end of an era, an era that had been spotted by dark lords and darker times. And as they wept, their tears cleansed the earth.


End file.
